


Unraveled

by GothamsFinest



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Language, Past Domestic Violence, Romance, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-01-23 05:19:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12499652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothamsFinest/pseuds/GothamsFinest
Summary: Sloane Baker wanted power and prestige. She'd do anything to become Negan's second-in-command no matter the costs. Can't have glory without spilling a few people's guts. Negan/OC





	1. Chain of Command

**Author's Note:**

> First try at a Walking Dead fanfic. Annnnd this is my first time every using A03 so bear with me as I figure this all out. Comments and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated. I'm not sure if you can message people over this but if you can... feel free to talk to me! 
> 
> By the way, this story is a companion piece to a Daryl/OC. The OC in this story and the OC in the Daryl story are sisters so if you like my writing or if you like Daryl, please check that story out. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!

**Unraveled**

* * *

Chain of Command

I was getting the fuck out of the Sanctuary and nothing was going to stop me. Not Negan. Not walkers. Not the 30-feet walls that separated me from the outside world.

A bullet zipped by my head and created a spark of amber as it hit the wall beside me.

A bullet... A bullet could probably stop me.

"Next one ain't missing," Simon threatened. Not only was I unlucky to have been caught, but the one to do it just had to be Simon. "Now I can't put one through your skull, but I will not hesitate to send a bullet through your spine. Right hand to the good man himself I will make you fucking paraplegic."

I didn't want to give up. I only had another 10-feet of rope left to climb before I would have made it into the liberating grasp of freedom. I had MacGyvered a grappling hook out of wrenches. I had shredded my palms and blistered my fingers climbing the first 20 feet of rope. I had risked my life and well being and the payoff was only 10 feet away. But I knew Simon's aim was shit sharp. His threat would become a reality if I didn't comply.

The battle wasn't worth fighting. I casted my pride aside and dropped to the ground. As a good sign of respect I held my hands to either side of my face. The helpless woman schtick would hopefully work.

"I am loving this right now," he said, jimmying his gun into the front of his loose khakis. He eased over to the rope I once held onto. The look in his eyes was a mixture of confusion and the stupidity that comes with trying to figure it all out. He quirked an eyebrow and gave the rope a good tug. "What's this attached to?"

"A wall."

"You trying to leave? You surprise me, Sloane." He snatched my makeshift grappling hook off the wall, barging into my space without a care. I kept my hands to myself no matter how badly I wanted to pop out his eyes. Attempting to escape was bad enough. I didn't want to deal with the after effects of killing Negan's right-hand-man just yet. "That ain't a good thing."

"How about instead of telling me what surprises you, you do your job and take me to Negan. That _is_ what happens next correct?" I said. "Let's not prolong the inevitable. That's just in bad taste."

Nose flaring, he snorted. The anger in his beady eyes didn't melt away even though he took a hand to his face and wiped at it. That same hand wrenched into a fist that he made sure to keep at his side.

"You want to hit me?" I asked. I didn't mean to laugh afterwords it just happened naturally. "Go ahead. Show me how weak I already know you are."

"I pray that today's the day he kills you. You see, you won't be able to talk your way out of this one, sweetheart. I just hope I'm able to see what Lucille has in store for you. Then we'll see who's weak."

Simon held my forearm in an unnecessary grip that only furthered the ache of muscles. He dragged me throughout the compound, mumbling words that I couldn't decipher. When we passed the holding cells, I stifled a smile. I didn't expect Simon to heed my orders and take me to Negan. Mr. second-in-command didn't have a mind of his own.

The walk to Negan's bedroom was used wisely. It gave me time to think and to actually conjure a plan of getting out of this alive. I could get out this, I'd weaseled out of worse. No matter the costs or sacrifices, I'd survive.

Simon knocked unceremoniously a few times on Negans door. An insurmountable amount of time passed before the creak of the door hit the air like a shrill note. Lucille was the first to reveal herself. The knob of the bat glistened even in the faulty lighting. Cinched around her handle was the feared dictator himself, Negan. I choked on his corrosive energy. The very presence of him suffocated everyone in its path even when he was barely in sight. He situated himself so that only half of him was visible – the other half concealed behind a door. It was hard to believe that he was just flesh-and-blood like the rest of us. Especially when the lack of light casted him in shadow, painting him to look more monstrous than any nightmare or any walker.

"Somebody start talking before Lucille asks her questions," Negan ordered. "Now."

Simon the good samaritan snitched before Negan even finished his sentence.

"Sloane was trying to escape."

Negan's eyes immeditately hit mine. "Is that right?"

"I'm guessing this place broke her. She was using this to climb our walls." Simon handed over the grappling hook. "Figured I'd let you decide the fate of the rat. Stomp it or snap its neck."

Finally, Negan fully entere the bleak corridor with us. His lithe frame leered over mine brutishly. In a cheap display of intimidation, his bare chest pressed against me. The grip of his dominance wrapped around my throat and squeezed against my jugular, threatening to siphon the life out of me if I didn't get out of his path.

"Say it isn't so." I winced at his words, preparing for the very worst. Any given moment he could've hit me or fed my brains to Lucille.

"You scared?" Negan's grin crept slowly across his face but it burned me alive. "You went through all this work, you used my own tools against and tried to climb the fucking _Berlin wall,_ Sloane, you do not get to pussy out in the end."

I felt weak around him. Like a powerless mouse cornered by a hellacious lion. I couldn't fucking think with his face _this_ close to me. And I couldn't contain my thoughts with his sardonic grin inches from my whirling mind. My thoughts felt so loud in my head everyone in the Sanctuary must've heard them. I hated it. This oh-so familiar feeling of being controlled wasn't who I was anymore. It wasn't who I wanted to be.

I tried taking a step back to crawl away from Negan's darkness but it latched onto me. He gripped my waist, keeping me still. His breach of my personal space wasn't appreciated and my reflexes acted before I could control myself.

I slapped him. Harder than hard. Rougher than rough. And if the pain wasn't enough of a message, the bloody print of my hand on his cheek would surely get the job done.

"Tell me, Negan," I edged closer to his face. Our eyes didn't waver from each other's. Two alphas fighting for dominance. "Does it fucking look like I'm afraid of you?"


	2. Bargaining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sloane wants something she can't get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the response! I appreciate every comment, bookmark and kudos! Special thank you to scorpiofreak for teaching me about the collection function on this site. Seriously thinking about using it!

 

* * *

This was far from how I imagined things transpiring. What was once my reality had transformed into a whirlpool of surrealism. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the blood loss, I'm not sure, but I fought to keep myself centered on the ground and not drift away. I'd become a spectator in my own life and wherever my decisions led me was in the control of God or whoever pulled the strings. 

“Don't ever touch me again.”  The words didn't sound like my own. 

His tongue slid against his teeth as his lips stretched into an elastic smile. “Yes, ma'am.” 

“Negan and Sloane,” Simon hummed, mulling over the taste of them. His buggy eyes fixated on something I couldn't quite put my finger on. “I uh...I think it's time for me to get an hour or two of some shut-eye. You both have yourselves a lovely night.” 

Simon scurried away, leaving Negan and me to share a blanket of uncomfortable silence. If he thought I'd crumble under the looming threat of what would happen next he was wrong. Lucille could've turned my brains to pavement shit at any given moment, but I wouldn't become Death's bitch and cower in fear. 

“Well?” I made the first move. “You ready to have a talk?” 

Ever so slightly he opened his bedroom door, beckoning me forward with just a tilt of his head. “After you.” 

I waited, and waited, and waited for him to move and let me in. That didn't happen. Of course, it didn't. Various tattoos marked his bare body and his jeans barely cradled his waist. Perhaps it was the sleepiness in him, but he didn't bother buttoning them. I didn't blame the women who chose to be his wife. If nothing else, Negan was a decent piece of ass to look at. 

“You gonna eye fuck me all night, Sloane?” he said. “Do not keep me waiting.” 

I was going to have to push my way through. Fine.   “Try anything stupid and your other cheek will have a twin handprint.” 

I pressed by him and didn't make it very far. Negan's arm gripped the door frame behind me, preventing any way of escape. There was no way I could step forward without kissing Lucille's barbwire. The bat locked me in place. With Negan to my side, there was no room for squirming. 

“Where are your fucking manners?” Negan's whisper rolled along my neck. “You were just gonna stroll in without asking my Lucille for permission? I can't have that. You don't disrespect the woman of the house.” 

“What?” 

“If you make me repeat it, it's gonna get a helluva lot worse for you.” 

Negan wanted a show. I wouldn't dare burn beneath the scorch of the spotlight. 

I threw away my pride and gave him what he wanted. “Lucille, may I come in?” 

“Lo and behold you have manners after all.” Lucille lowered, giving me access inside. “What a pleasant surprise.” 

Negan's bedroom was spotless. Citrus cleanser perfumed the air and the wooden floors shined. If I took a magnifying glass to his floors you would've seen sparkles. Dirt, debris, and trash were nonexistent. There wasn't a piece of clothing out of place. I would've guessed Negan was a neat-freak, but I knew that wasn't true. Being the King of the Saviors afforded him to have maids to clean his dirty work. I slept like a sewer rat while Negan slept like Henry the Eighth. 

“Tell me,” Negan said. “What punishment do you think you deserve for the shit you pulled?” 

“I don't think I'm deserving of one considering how badass I was.” 

“I've fed you, clothed you, and gave you a place to wipe your ass and you repay me with escape stunts. That shit doesn't fly here. Not for a second. Not for a nano of that second.” He knocked Lucille on the ground in hard thumps. One. Two. Three. “Rules are rules and I have a hard time refusing to let it go because if we're being honest, it hurt my feelings.” 

“You promised me you'd look for my sister. Those were the precious fucking rules you and I made. But you haven't done shit,” I spat. “Instead of having me help to look for my own flesh and blood, you have me washing linens and folding clothes. You fuck your wives on those sheets and you make me wash them, Negan. Disgusting. I promise I'm done. Either you make me a lieutenant and let me look for her or kill me now because I'm over the empty promises.” 

“Christ,” He sighed, placing Lucille in his massive bed. He tucked her in and dammit did she look comfortable. “It's too early in the morning for this.” He placed a hand on his face and grimaced when he felt the traces of my blood that the slap I had given him left. I half expected him to make some smarmy comment that would leave me boiling, instead, he moved towards a door. 

“Where are you going?” I called out after him. 

“To the bathroom to wash my face. Feel free to join me if you want to talk more about making you a lieutenant. Or you can wait out here and leave me to ponder exactly what your punishment should be.”

He disappeared into the bathroom, and I was left contemplating the invitation. A bathroom would mean we'd be in a close, tight space. It meant giving him what he wanted in exchange for the sheer hope of being made a lieutenant. If I stayed in his bedroom, I knew I wouldn't like whatever punishment he was going to indulge in. Did I really even have a choice? 

There was a strange sound coming from the bathroom. One that sounded like a hard wind. When I entered, I realized the culprit was a running faucet and I almost laughed at myself. The sound of a sink had become foreign and shocking to me. Even the sight of the perfectly polished shower had caused nostalgia to stir in my heart. Hot beads of water falling onto my skin. The lather of a bar of soap. Soft, clean skin.

Negan stopped splashing water on his face when he caught where my gaze had drifted. “You want to take a shower, Sloane?” 

What could telling the truth hurt? “Yes.” 

His laughter bounced off the walls.  “And people in hell want ice water, but all they get are the hot beads of sweat from the devil's nutsack.”  There wasn't a trace left of my blood on him when he turned to me.   

“At least they're getting something. What am I getting? Nothing.”

“And yet here you are, asking me to be a Lieutenant.” 

“Because then I might actually get to do things that are respectable.  And maybe I'll actually have a chance to find my sister.” 

Our eyes were locked. I assumed that he was measuring my determination.  “You know I can't make you a Lieutenant, darlin'. What type of example would it set for everyone else? Try to escape and then you'll be rewarded?” 

“No one knows I tried to escape but you and Simon.”

“And that's one person too many.”  He ran a hand through his hair and then offered me one of those shit-eating grins that he gave out.  “I like you, Sloane. I really do. I think you've got a great work ethic, fortitude, and an a-fucking-mazing body. That's why you're in here and not Lucille's brain food for the night, but Lieutenant is off the table because I don't trust you anymore.” 

“I'm truly thankful that you were compassionate enough to spare my head from being beaten in,” I said so sugary that I was sure the sarcasm wasn't missed on him. “But I can't go back to the way things were before.  So tell me what it is I have to do to get your trust back.” 

Negan stroked his chin.  “You're willing to try and earn my trust again? After I made you do menial tasks like washing my so-called disgusting sheets?”

“Yes,” I said.  “If it means I'll have a shot at being Lieutenant and can start searching for my sister.” 

“Well then.” His grin was wide and full. “Welcome to fucking hell week.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again this story is a companion piece to a Daryl/OC story. If you wanna check out my profile page or copy and paste the link!  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/12500028/chapters/28458728


	3. Who. Are. You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sloane gets more than what she bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Hope you all enjoyed tonight's episode.

The cafeteria both resembled and acted like a prison. No, that wasn't fair to prisons. This was a zoo and we were the animals on display for Negan. From one end of the room to the other we sat at tables according to our job and sector. It wasn't a rule. We were allowed to intermingle amongst ourselves, but fear prevented most from garnering unwanted attention.

The lines for food were hell. Lunch break for those who hustled for points was an hour and always an hour. Most of that time was spent waiting in line for whatever garbage we could afford. Today, a swampy colored soup was on the menu.

"Denied." Mildred, the soup maker and server, snatched away my bowl.

"Stop joking," I said. "I know I have enough points I always have enough."

"Doesn't say so." She pointed to her book that kept the weekly points with a pencil. "There's no charity here. No points, no food."

I couldn't believe it. Fuck. Negan expunged my points and kept me in the dark about it. Part one of my punishment I suppose. What was there to do. I wouldn't throw a fit, I wouldn't bitch and moan. No, I'd suffer in silence for as long as I could.

"Move," Pushing me out the way, Arat took command of the line and cut her way to the front. "No one has time for your pity party bullshit."

The stint I pulled last night may not have been the smartest. From the inside out my muscles throbbed in misery. I could barely feel sensation in my fingers and Negan hadn't allowed me to visit Dr. Carson so I was screwed. To put things lightly, I was fucked.

"Did you not hear me? Bitch?" Another shove. Arat had a short fuse and a notorious reputation for loving violence. What was I supposed to do? Fight and get my ass beat? No way. But if I walked away every Savior would think that I was a pussy who didn't have an ounce of fight in me. I'd lose their respect before having a chance to earn it. "You wanna scrap?"

Her laugh was like a spit in the face. Adrenaline instantly dizzied me almost to a state of intoxication. I had no weapons and my hands were bruised and marred with scabs. But they would have to do.

"Of course you don't because you know, I know, and everyone here knows I'd beat your ass to the ground." Her eyes crept into slits."You're too bitch made to be a Lieutenant."

The crack of bat slapped the air and the lunchroom roared as if it were a game-winning home run. I was foolish enough to believe it was Lucille and Negan that'd incited such chaos. It was when I felt the pain in my jaw that I realized Arat sucker punched me.

Another swing, this one to my stomach, knocked me on my ass. A knee to my chin sent me on my back. I rolled over, desperate to get up, but Arat's boot kept me down with every kick she gave to my spine, rib, and back. I scratched against the stone floor, leaving bloody claw marks of the reopened wounds left on my fingertips.

With another valiant scratch against the concrete floor, something caught my grasp. My vision, though blurry, focused in on the shiny object betwixt my fingers. A knife. Where in the fuck did a knife come from?

Didn't goddamn matter.

Every piece of strength I could muster was used to launch my arm behind me. Arat's kicking stopped and the delightful sounds of her screams followed. I clambered to my feet to find that Arat had taken my position on the ground. Blood sprayed from the open gash on her ankle and pooled around her body that thrashed about violently.

"Hey!"

With the sound of Negan's voice, the knife in my hands fell. The cheers and wild ramblings immediately stopped. No longer was I a gladiator, battling for my life within a Colosseum's pit. I reverted back to my place as feeble and powerless Sloane. Every savior, myself included, fell to one knee in respect of the leader.

"You just can't stop fucking up." Perched above us all on a metal railing, Negan's black eyes latched onto mine. "You are what they call a glutton for punishment."

"Don't pretend like you didn't want this," I heaved. Testing out the waters, I dared to speak out against him. "You orchestrated this entire thing to fuck with me."

"I don't risk my people's lives in a goddamn-" Only the cries of Arat dared to interrupt Negan as he spoke. "Will one of you spineless fucks take some goddamn initiative and get Arat to Dr. Carson? I didn't think it had to be said since she's on her last leg." Negan barked. Two men followed the orders like the dogs they were. "Back to what the fuck I was saying. I do no, can not, and will not risk the innocent lives of my people to prove a point. And why is that Sloane?"

The reasons were endless. Because he was king. Because there was strength in numbers. Because no one wanted to follow a leader who thought their soldiers were expendable. Still, with all these reasons I found myself not being able to answer him logically. I could barely process the fight I'd just been in let alone Negan's rhetorical interrogation questions.

"I don't know," I said.

"I don't go around proving points because I am the point," he said, poking himself hard in the chest. "And if I am the point then who are you?"

"I'm Negan." The answer was unanimous by every person in the room. Everyone said the mantra like a choir. Everyone but me.

Negan pointed the razor-sharp tip of Lucille in my direction. "And. Who. Are. You?"

"I'm whoever you want me to be," I answered honestly. "If that's Negan then sure, I'm Negan."

"No. You. Are. Not!" He gave me his trademark smile and it was the scariest thing I'd seen since the end of the world. "But I promise, Sloane, you will be."


End file.
